Baby, I do not like it

The feeling that is nagging me is back. It has been telling me to do something different but I am at a loss.

I am at a loss because I do not know what to do. I did my hair differently; I even dress differently in the past few months. I bought a few pairs of slippers (or flip-flops as you yanks would call it) and as a result of flip-flopping, my feet hurt. I am not used to walking around with my feet flat on the ground like that.

The other day, as I was making dinner, I said to the voice in my headset, “I have no desire to go to the gym,” I received no reply. I told H and he stared at me as if I spoke in another language altogether. His eyes were large and he looked me up and down, as though sizing me up, debating whether or not I could afford not to go back to the gym. He had a slew of suggestions after a few minutes all of which I am considering.

The problem is that I do not want anyone to suggest doing this or that – least of all H or any man for that matter. I am never used to it. I do admit, I sometimes do act on his suggestions but not very often. I am put off by the quickness of his suggestions – as though he is there to solve all of my problems, that I am incapable of thinking for myself. I do understand he does not think that but I just get annoyed anyway.

I am not at all saying I resent being given suggestions of what to do or how to do anything. I am just saying when it comes to doing anything differently to un-bore myself, I prefer to come up with my own solutions. Problem-solving is irritating but can be very satisfying and gratifying. It is akin to working for your money as opposed to sitting around and getting money from any source while doing nothing. Of course, this is not true for everyone because if it is, there will be fewer people holding out their hands, waiting for hand outs either from the government or passersby or anyone at all for that matter but I digressed.

I decided that I would paint the kitchen but the next day, I realised that I am actually not too keen on the idea so that is history. It took me weeks to go into Child of the Corn II’s bedroom and trash everything I did not like. I was not in the mood. Now I am not in the mood to even think of All Hallows Eve. This time last year, my entire house had been decorated.

I went to the gym on Saturday but did not do too much cardio like I had been doing. I was getting acquainted with my new gym’s equipments. I was not bored while I was there. I am just losing interest in the step mill.

I am not depressed, but I am just losing interest in eating. Yes, I am losing interest in everything I found great pleasure just months ago. It crept up very slowly but it is there.

I suppose I just need to go out there and find something or someone else to do, or not do.

The voice in my headset said the other day, “You have not been in your hammock in awhile,” I did not even notice.

Everyone else had been in my hammock that I was very attached to last year. I have changed up everything since winter came and left. Now it is coming back and I am blown away by the quickness of it all.

For starters, I was drinking gallons of Riesling a week last summer. This summer, I could probably line up my Guinness bottles and sing 100 bottles of beer or however the song goes. It just hit me the other day when I walked into the liquor shack – I have not been buying anything for myself and I was lost as in I had no idea what I was looking at. I turned my head, saw a bottle of Riesling that I used to drink, and thought to myself, “Hey, I think I will have a bottle of this.”

Maybe I should just get the dishwasher out of its place in my kitchen and put in the wine cooler like H had said. That might bring my groove back. Yes, you did not misread, I said pull out the dishwasher, we never use it, and it came with the house. That is wasted real estate if you ask me.

Another thing that has come back is that I am once again up until all hours of the night and yet I am up before the sun comes up. This waking up early started late last year, early this year sometime and I assumed it will stop but so far, it has not. I wake up without the aid of alarm clocks (yes, plural because everyone has at least one alarm clock on their nightstand except for H who has two – do not ask) and most of the time, I stay awake, albeit, dragging my feet for a few hours.

Oh, hell, maybe I should just go out, party every weekend, and pretend I am 22 all over again.

SuriaMentari notes to self: maybe changing that phone number idea and hanging out with new people is not such a bad idea after all…